


save yourself

by orphan_account



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos wishes, just this one time, that Aramis would break a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Both Porthos and Aramis die in this fic (even tho it's nothing too explicit) and I think that deserves a warning, because I wouldn't want anyone to go into this expecting some sort of plot twist in which they survive. The rating's due to the death theme.

He is tired. Aramis keeps shooting him looks from the corner of his eye, as though he waits for him to trip and fall any moment. And maybe he will, maybe he will fall. Blood soaks his vest where the bullet has hit and breached his chest, but he doesn't feel any pain. It's funny, really, that he bleeds out, _bleeds to death_ , and it's painless. It's also how he knows that he won't survive this time. The wound feels differently. It feels like _nothing_. And that's how it will end. With him being nothing, with him being dead and gone. And it's ok, somehow. He had it coming for a long time. Musketeers don't get to grow old and happy, they live short, hard, glorious lives, and embrace death at a young age. It's what he wants, what he always wanted. Now he just wishes Aramis wasn't here to witness it... this mess.

“Are you...?“

“I'm fine. Keep going.“ He smiles at Aramis, knowing it will not convince him, but they both play along and pretend there's nothing wrong. Like they aren't lost in an underground tunnel system in the middle of nowhere, like they aren't on their own and helplessly outnumbered, like he isn't dying. Guilt rips through his body, and the sharp sting of regret fills his mind. Suddenly the bullet wound starts aching. It's a dull pain, one he is familar with, one he has experienced before, and that's strangely comforting. A death without pain? He doesn't want it, it leaves too much room for thought. At least pain will distract him from the future he won't have, he will engross too much to think about anything else. Or so he hopes.

He glances at Aramis. Aramis, who has lost his stupid hat in the encounter earlier, and whose face shows more worry than he is aware of, Aramis, who has lost his easy smile somewhere between the shots and the first streaks of blood marking the floor. When he notices his look, his face lights up – and it's forced, it's fake, and mask-like – and he says with a crooked smile: “Promise me that next time I think it's a good idea to go after a bunch of heavily armed criminals, you will remind me of this moment and punch me in the face, if I still won't listen.“

“I promise.“ He frowns at the sound of his voice. Weak, it sounds weak, even to himself, and it's surprising, because he doesn't feel weak. Cold and somewhat drowsy, maybe, but not _weak_.

“Porthos-“ Aramis stops and turns around, his lips a thin line in a pale face. And now he sees it very clearly: Fear and helplessness. Despair. Aramis' voice is hardly above a whisper when he says: “Promise you won't die on me.“

“I'm fine.“ The lie is out before he thinks about it.

“You're _shaking_ , Porthos.“ Aramis' nostrils flare; they always do when he is angry. He grasps his hands and the corners of his mouth twitch. „You're _cold_. How much blood have you lost...?“

“Some.“

„How much?“ Aramis' eyes have a feverish sheen. He shrugs, and pain drills instantly into his chest. For a moment he can't breathe, blood seeps from the wound and tears fill his eyes. They match the tears stinging into Aramis' eyes.

“You goddamn bastard,“ he whispers and his voice breaks.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Aramis.“

“How could you.“ He looks like he wants to shake him, punch him, hurt him. Kiss him better. “Why...? Why didn't you tell me?“

“I didn't want to worry you.“

“Worry me. _Worry me_. Are you insane??“ Aramis almost yells, and he looks so desperate and so angry now that Porthos avoids his eyes and stares to the ground. His vision blurs and it's not caused by the tears. He feels light, suddenly. “Forgive me,“ he manages through half-closed lips.

Aramis grabs his chin and forces his head up, wiping the tears from his eyes angrily. „No. I don't forgive you. I will forgive you as soon as we're both safe. And still alive. If you dare to die, I swear that I-“ He shakes his head. “Remember what Athos used to say?“

“Nobody dies under my watch.“

He nods. “ _Nobody dies under my watch_. I won't let it happen. Do you understand?“

“I love you, Aramis.“

“No. Don't say that. I don't want to hear it. Just- _don't_.“

The exhaustion gets overwhelming and he feels that his body gives into it. “I'll sit down for a while. You can- please, go. They're coming and... please don't make me watch you die, too.“

“Don't say another word.“

“Aramis.“

“ _No_.“

“Please.“

“I won't leave you, Porthos. I _promised_. And I don't break my promises.“

“When I'm dead, will you go?“

“You're not going to die.“

“I'm tired, Aramis. Just promise me you'll flee when- when it's over, ok...?“

Aramis sits down beneath him and wraps an arm around him. He doesn't look at him when he says: “I love you.“

It's like another shot to his chest. “Promise me,“ he tries again, but Aramis doesn't answer, doesn't nod. “ _Promise me._ “

“I love you, Porthos. I always did.“

“Aramis...“

“We're together. That's what matters.“

“You have to go... please. I beg you.“ He can't concentrate. Everything is a blur of colours and coldness. Aramis' fingers against his skin keep him grounded in reality. At least he thinks he's still in reality. But maybe he already dreams. Maybe he is already unconcious. “Promise me.“

Aramis presses a lingering kiss to his temple and squeezes his hand. “Shh. I promise, love. I promise you.“

Even as Porthos slips into the darkness, he knows Aramis will break the promise, but he can't find the strenght to argue anymore... As men shout and fire guns, and the stench of gunpowder is filling the air, he is already gone, but he still holds Aramis' hand as he follows him into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, at least Aramis didn't outlive Porthos and they're together in the afterlife, right? (I feel like I should apologize for being a loser who wrote and posted death fic, so I'm gonna do that: Sorry.)


End file.
